


It Doesn't Show Signs of Stopping

by 8sword



Category: Sailor Moon - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:16:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8sword/pseuds/8sword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2013 Serena/Darien Christmas fic. AU, not STC, alas. Vaguely inspired by the song "Let It Snow."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Doesn't Show Signs of Stopping

notes: As usual, the fic turned out much sadder than I intended. Nor is it the Sailor Moon/Rise of the Guardians fusion Jade and I had such a great discussion about, dammit. My apologies and thanks to everyone who waited for this.

warnings: vague references to miscarriage

 

* * *

 

 

                He wakes to something tickling his back.

                Without opening his eyes or turning his face out of the pillow it was buried in, he says into the pillowcase, "Odango, what are you doing."

                The faint pressure pauses. He feels the shape of a pleased little grin against his shoulder blade through his thin sleep shirt. "Were you rubbing my back with your _nose_?"

                "My nose is cold," Serena informs him, squirming closer. She burrows her face into the crook of his neck between his shoulder and the pillow, and it's true, her nose is cold. Darien almost flinches away from it, but Serena curls up more tightly and snuggles deeper, insinuating herself between him and the mattress the same way she'd insinuated herself into his daily routine, all those years ago.

                He wriggles an arm free from under the covers and wraps it around her, opening his eyes to squint over her head at the digital clock on the nightstand. Six-forty.  "What time are we picking up Hotaru?"

                "Nine," Serena mumbles.

                There's time for another few hours of sleep, then. Darien falls promptly back asleep.

 

\- o -

 

                The joke Asanuma makes when they're late getting to Rei and Numa's to pick up Hotaru is something like _hey, Dare, remember when Serena used to be the sleeping beauty of the relationship?_ Darien doesn't care. Since he started his residency, sleep's become his most coveted and treasured pastime, and sleeping in bed with Serena, rather than in the cots in the residents' room at the hospital, is an even bigger deal.

                So he flips Numa an irreverent middle finger behind his back when Sere's not looking, too busy helping Rei bundle up the three-year-old, getting a bark of laughter from his old friend.

                "That's the Dare I know and admire from afar," Asanuma says. "You should get eight hours of sleep more often." He pauses. "Or laid."

                Rei thwacks him on the head from behind. Asanuma must have sensed her coming, because he ducks just quickly enough for her swat to catch more hair than actual head.

                "What do you not understand about _my daughter is three years old_?"

                "She doesn't know what I'm talking about!" Asanuma bends, hands to his knees, to look down at Hotaru. "Right, kiddo?"

                "Laid!" Hotaru crows, waving mittened hands.

                "An egg!" Serena catches the little hands, clapping them between her own. "A chicken laid it for breakfast! Yaayyyy!"

                Rei smiles at them both, winding her red scarf around her neck and pulling her hair out from underneath it as she reaches for her keys. "We'll meet you at the shrine at five?"

                Serena scoops up Hotaru, helping her lean forward to smack a _bye, Mama_ kiss onto Rei's arm. Why Hotaru chose Rei's arm to kiss, Darien has no idea, and isn't sure he wants to know, considering Hotaru's penchant for imitating Asanuma. "We'll see you there! Right, Hota-chan?"

                "Bring presents!" Hotaru orders her mother.

                "Only if you're good for Aunt Serena," Rei says, and gets another wet kiss.

                "Hey," Asanuma puts his hands on his hips. "No goodbye kisses for me?"

                Hotaru blows him a raspberry. Asanuma blows one back, then swoops in for a kiss to her pudgy cheeks that leaves her laughing.

                Darien occupies himself double-checking that the pockets on the bag Rei packed for them to take care of Hotaru for the day are all zipped and secure. He slings it over his shoulder as Rei and Asanuma get into Rei's Civic and back out of the driveway; walks to their own car to open the door to the backseat, where he and Asanuma had wrangled Hotaru's car seat in with the seat belt fifteen minutes before.

                Hotaru flails in displeasure as Serena follows him and leans down to put her in the car seat. She doesn't want to be put down. Darien crawls into the backseat from the other side to strap her in while Serena distracts her with Eskimo kisses.

                Hotaru's laughter at the kisses sound more like hiccups than anything else, and Darien casts a glance in the rearview mirror back at her as he slides into the driver's seat. As usual, he feels an undercurrent of anxiety, of dread, on a day that should be relaxed and happy. He's careful to clear his throat, to swallow it down, as Serena slides into the passenger seat.

                Rei gave them Hotaru's favorite Christmas CD to play in the car while they have her: a bunch of Christmas songs meowed by cats. Luckily, the drive to the park is only about five minutes, so they don't have to put up with too much of Hotaru's meowing along to _Jingle Bell Rock._ It's the sort of thing he thinks Serena would have joined in with the meowing, once upon a time, but she's staring out the window as they drive, her lip drawn under her teeth. She's thinking, and Darien slides his hand across the seats, behind her neck to stroke his thumb once over the shell of her ear.

                She glances over at him. Smiles, softly, releasing her lip from beneath her teeth, and leans her head into his hand as they pull into the parking lot.

               

\- o -

 

                At this time of year, it's not really cold enough for real snow. The most they get is slush melting on the edges of the streets and at the curbs. But the city puts on a festival at the park every year, trucking in a small mountain of snow for the kids to play on, while a Santa and some elves hold court in one of the picnic pavilions. Tents of craft and food vendors cover the rest of the lawn.

                This year, there's a snow mountain and a snow slide both, the latter a long stretch of packed snow extending down the gently sloping hill near the playground. The line for it's even longer than the line to get onto the snow mountain. Kids grin as they zoom down the hard-packed slide on bright red toboggans.

                Hotaru points at it as soon as she sees it. "That!" She kicks her legs eagerly, trying to get down and run to join the line for the toboggans.

                Darien shifts the grocery bag of canned goods they brought along--the price to go on the snow attractions is one canned good donation per person--from his right hand to his left. "Is she big enough?"

                Serena's squinting at the sign by the volunteers manning the toboggan distribution. It's a bright day, and as usual, she's forgotten her sunglasses. Dean takes off his Oakleys and pushes the bows carefully over her ears, smoothing her bangs back. She blinks at him from behind the lenses, then leans forward to bump her forehead against his chin affectionately.

                Hotaru makes an unhappy sound. She's still wriggling, trying to get down.

                "Five and up," Darien says, finding the sign. "Sorry, Hota, looks like you've got another two years before you're big enough."

                "We can tell them I'm five?" she says hopefully.

                "Nice try, kiddo," comes a voice from behind them. "But I'm in charge around here, and I know exactly how old you are!"

                Darien turns to see Lita, leaning in to pinch Hotaru's nose. Hotaru squeals.

                "My ears!" Lita exclaims, pretending to cover them. Hotaru laughs. Serena watches them both with a smile.

                Darien shifts. "Anything burn down yet, Lita?"

                "Not on my watch," she says. The red track jacket she's wearing says **STAFF** , and she's got a silver whistle hanging from her throat, a walkie-talkie on her belt. "Everything's going suspiciously easily, I think it's because Numa's not around to sabotage Toki this year."

                There's a collective pause as the adults remember how close Asanuma had come to exposing Motoki as Santa in front of a room of small children last year. Toki's played Santa every year since college; it was how he and Lita met, and Asanuma's favorite joke is to ask when Toki's going to make an honest Mrs. Claus of Lita. Between that and the fact that Hotaru actually _knows_ Motoki, it's a wonder she hasn't realized yet that he plays Santa. Unless she does and is just humoring the rest of them--Darien eyes her as she reaches for Lita's whistle, because he wouldn't put it past her to be that sharp. She is Rei's kid, after all.

                "You guys heading for Mt. Kilimanjaro over there?" Lita says. "The wait's about half an hour now; I'd go before the noon rush hits and it all starts melting."

               

\- o-

 

                The line for three- to five-year-olds is smaller than the others, the roped-off area more cramped.  Darien hands the canned goods off to Serena and goes to lean against one of the lampposts where he has a view of the snow mountain with all the kids climbing atop it, and of the line where Serena stands, holding Hotaru on her hip again and nuzzling her nose with Eskimo kisses. Hotaru's laughter drifts to Dean through the chilly air, barely audible over the strains of "Deck the Halls" that someone's begun to play from the speakers on the makeshift stage where Santa sits, several hundred meters away.

                As people push strollers past him, or guide children, hand-in-hand, he begins to wish he had stayed with them in line, because there's too much space for thinking over here, alone.

                He knows quite well that what hurts is when he starts to wonder. When he starts to do the math in his head, thinking about how the baby would have been almost a year old by now. How he and Serena would have been pushing her along in the cherry blossom-patterned stroller Serena had kept looking at in the department store, how he would have patted the baby's tiny feet consolingly through her blankets because he was sorry her mom was stopping every two feet to oooh and aah over some new craft at the vendors' tents; we're going to leave you behind if you don't pick up the pace, Odango.

                Or maybe Sere would have convinced him to wear one of those papoose things where he'd have held the baby strapped to his chest, and she would have been a warm sleepy weight against him, breathing formula breath onto his collarbone. Or maybe she would have been awake, alert, twisting around trying to see everything, as excited and curious as her mom.

                These are the thoughts that hurt; these are the things that wriggle into his mind as he watches the moms and dads and strollers and kids, insidious as roots, as the bits of tinsel that get everywhere when you take even a little bit of it out of the box.

 

\- o-

 

                Serena smuggles a ball of snow off the snow mountain to stick down the back of Darien's shirt. Lita catches her with it but doesn't punish her, though a sign next to the booth says, "ANYONE CAUGHT STEALING SNOW FROM THE MOUNTAIN WILL BE SENT TO THE ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS FOR TIME-OUT."

                "Does that actually exist?" Darien says skeptically, plucking at the back of his shirt as he tries to get the rest of the snow out of it. He's pretty sure the reason Lita didn't punish Serena is because she stole the snow to use it on him in this manner. He's not entirely sure Lita wasn't in on the prank in the first place.

                Lita's grin does little to convince him otherwise. "Sure it does, pretty boy." She points past the snow slide, where there's plastic candy cane lawn ornaments staked into the ground form a small corral. A bored-looking high school volunteer stands there, texting on her phone. "That's our Island for Misfit Toys."

                "But that's not fair!" Serena says indignantly. "The whole point of the island of misfit toys was that they _weren't_ bad! There was nothing wrong with them!"

                It's Lita's turn to look skeptical. "Are we seriously analyzing a claymation movie now?"

                Serena sniffs at her.

                "Abominable snowman," Hotaru says, and points at Darien. Who opens his mouth to snap his teeth and roar mock-menacingly at her. She squeal and runs. He chases her into the crowd, leaving Serena and Lita to some girl talk.

                Their chase leads to the Santa line. It's not that long, most kids apparently preferring the snow mountain and sledding to sitting on Santa's lap. Within minutes, he and Hotaru are ducking under the tinsel-covered archway and toward the gold-glitter-covered chair Motoki's sitting in. His face is mostly covered by fake glasses, fake beard, and a very itchy-looking hat. Darien thinks he may even have some foundation caked on.

                "Ho ho ho!" he belly-laughs when he sees them. "If it isn't my favorite firefly! And...medical student!"

                "Hi, Santa!" Hotaru scrambles into his lap without waiting for an invitation. Motoki's eyes twinkle at Darien. "How are you?"

                "I'm good, thank you." Motoki bounces her a little on his leg. "What about you, Miss Hotaru, do you know what you want for Christmas?"

                "Yes," Hotaru says firmly.

                Motoki and Darien both wait patiently for her answer. It doesn't come. She looks over at Darien and clears her throat.

                "What?" Darien says belatedly. Is he missing something?

                "You have to leave while I talk to Santa," she informs him solemnly.

                Darien glances at Motoki. Who gives him a tiny half shoulder shrug.

                "Okaaaaay," Darien says slowly. "I'll be just outside, all right?"

                Hotaru beams at him. "Thank you!"

 

\- o -

 

                Darien doesn't see Motoki again for the rest of the day until the bonfire at Rei's. He's sitting on one of the old logs they've dragged around the fire, keeping an eye on the bag of sweet potatoes meant for roasting. There's only enough for each of them to roast two over the fire, Serena, Asanuma, and Mikai have already tried to steal thirds.

                Lita and Motoki are the last to get to the shrine, having stayed to finish the clean-up of the festival. Motoki's in jeans and a coat over his sweater, face scrubbed of make-up and adhesive, but his eyes look tired, drawn, as he eases down on the log next to Darien, legs stretched out before him.

                Darien waits a few minutes, handing Lita her first potato and Hotaru her second. Then he says, "You all right?"

                Motoki shifts for the first time, like he's waking from sleep. Draws his legs in, boots scraping through the leaves. "Just tired," he says. "You get sore, all those kids climbing all over you."

                But his voice is off, too, something distracted in it. Darien casts him a glance from the corner of his eye, and Motoki sighs, pinches his nose.

                "It's just," he says. "It's enough to make you heartsick sometimes. When kids ask you for things you know they're not going to get."

                Darien doesn't say anything. He remembers Christmases at the orphanage with the Santa who volunteered there, how the older kids wouldn't ask for anything, and the younger kids would ask for gifts, and the youngest kids would ask for people. _Please bring my mommy back._

                The fire crackles, and pops. Someone squeals. Hotaru shouts, "Daddy, catch it!" and there's laughter as Asanuma does something with his yakiimo that Darien can't see from his vantage point.

                "Sorry," Motoki murmurs, and Darien's not sure what he's apologizing for.

                When it's time to exchange presents, Hotaru saves all of hers for last. She's made big floppy construction paper cards for all of them, each with a haiku she must have written with Rei's grandfather. Darien's says,

_You are really tall_

_but not as tall as Toki_

_I love you a lot_

and has a fir tree drawn around it. She gives him a hug when she gives it to him, then crawls into his lap to watch Serena unwrap her gift, which is covered with nearly as much tape as wrapping paper.

                Serena unwraps it slowly and with great ceremony, well aware of Hotaru's excited attention on her. She trades a laughing glance with Darien as she hooks her finger under the last stubborn strip of tape.

                The wrapping paper falls away, and her smile falters.

                Rei and Asanuma are the first to fall quiet. The silence spreads from them to Lita and Motoki, then to Mina and Mikai and Ami and the others, until everyone is staring at the tiny pair of red and green Christmas socks in Serena's lap.

                "I told Santa that's what I wanted this year!" Hotaru scrambles out of Darien's lap, to scramble into Serena's instead. "I told him I want Aunt Serena to have a baby! And now the baby'll have socks when she comes out, see?"

                Serena's hair has fallen forward in a curtain before her face; Darien can't see it. He dares to put his hand to her back, just his fingertips against her spine, and he can't read her from that, either.

                She sets the stocking carefully down next to her. Then she reaches forward and wraps her arms around Hotaru.

                "Hota-chan," she says thickly. "Thank you so much."

 

\- o -

 

                They didn't do much to decorate the apartment this year. There's tinsel strung along the window, and Christmas cards hanging in a decorative holder on the pantry door, and a tree in the corner next to the TV, one of the artificial ones with twinkling multi-colored lights insides the branches.

                Serena doesn't turn on the lamp as Darien pulls the keys out of door knob and lets them inside. She crosses the room to the tree instead, and rocks onto her knees to plug it in as Darien shuts the door and pulls the deadbolt into place. The tree blinks on, spilling shifting red and green and blue and orange and purple-tinted shadows into the dark room.

                Darien toes his shoes off slowly. Serena is a dark silhouette kneeling in front of the glowing tree. Still, her head bowed.

                He goes to her. Crouches behind her and gently unwraps her coat. Slips off her shoes. Stands to put them both away. Then he goes to their bedroom and pulls the comforter from their bed. Her cat-shaped slipper socks are on the dresser, and he picks them up, too. When he comes back into the living room, she's curled up, lying on her side with her knees drawn up to her chest, still staring at the tree. He kneels again and pulls the socks onto her small feet, cupping her heels in his hands, thumb against the gentle pulse behind her malleoli. It's slow, it's tired, and so is Darien.

                He lies down behind her. Pulls the comforter over both of them, up to their chins. Then he reaches around her and touches her cold nose, gently. Rests his hand against the carpet there, where her shaky breaths touch his wrist.

                Her hands come up, close around his. Squeeze his palm.

                "Darien," she whispers.

                "I'm here," he says. It's not a lot. It's certainly not enough. But it's all he has to give.

                _I'm here._

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
